


Ignite the Light

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Family Bonding, Festival fun, Fireworks, Gen, Multi, Shoulder-Rides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22664947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: Sakura gasps happily, the Princess clapping her hands together with an excited cry of “A fair! Afair! Oh, look at all the games and rides!”“I suppose,” says Fai, and with a sidling step and a gentle smile that lays a kind hand on Sakura’s small shoulder, “that we’d better go and have a look then.”
Relationships: Everybody & Mokona, Fay D. Fluorite & Kurogane & Sakura & Syaoran (CLAMP), Sakura | Tsubasa Clone/Syaoran | Li Tsubasa Clone
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Ignite the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Family bonding at a summer festival.

“Well,” says Syaoran, not three seconds after they’ve all touched down in a swirl of glittering light and trailing wisps of magic. “Wherever we are, it sure is… loud?”

He’s not wrong, but maybe it’s not a _bad_ thing. Because while there is definitely a cacophony of sound and light and _colour_ — exploding in flashbulb bursts and ringing bells and the rumbling noises of a cheerful crowd of people packed densely together and talking all at once in a hundred thousand different conversations — all around them, there is no disharmony in the sound, no discordance; just laughter and joyful exuberance and the ringing calls of stall-owners sparking out across the night beneath the web of shimmering signs that blaze against the velvet dark sky.

“WHAT,” says Fai cheerfully. _Shouts_ cheerfully, rather, and very close to Kurogane’s ear at that; Kurogane’s eyebrow is already twitching dangerously as against all logic Fai leans in even further towards the scowling ninja to bellow his response. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU SYAORAN-KUN, IT IS VERY LOUD!”

“MOKONA CAN BE LOUD TOO!!” comes the carolling call as Mokona flips over midair — twice — and somehow manages to stick the landing so that she bounces atop dark hair, and now _both_ of Kurogane’s eyebrows are twitching, and the nerve beneath his left eye spasming in the kind of tic that suggests someone has waved a red flag in front of a bull. “SECRET TECHNIQUE #93: FUN AND FRIENDLY FOGHORN!!”

Kurogane takes a slow, deep breath and Syaoran watches his powerful chest swell and expand with the same sort of helpless awe as fishermen watch the tide drawing back from the shore and the waves building terrifyingly high in the watery distance, and when Mokona launches herself up and into the air with a excited squeal and as Fai laughs in mocking chorus when a dark hand snags him by the shirt, Kurogane’s mouth opens on what is sure to be the kind of roar to freeze the blood—

—but then Sakura gasps happily, the Princess clapping her hands together with an excited cry of “A fair! A _fair_! Oh, look at all the games and rides!”, and quite suddenly the tableau behind her freezes without her knowing, all three of them and Mokona looking at each other with the same thought in mind. Slowly, Kurogane lets go of Fai’s shirt and dusts his hands off against his trousers.

“I suppose,” says Fai, loudly enough to be heard over the surrounding racket but nowhere close to the volume of before, and this with a sidling step and a gentle smile that lays a kind hand on Sakura’s small shoulder, “that we’d better go and have a look then.”

Sakura’s face glows as she turns about, spinning on the spot so fast that her fluffy hair whips around her head and the bells on her sleeves jangle in excitement. “Oh! Can we? Can we really?”

“Of course,” says Fai, at exactly the moment Kurogane makes an affirmative-sounding _mmhm_ noise and Syaoran finds himself nodding frantically, and Mokona seals the deal as she leaps from Kurogane’s head and into Sakura’s arms.

_“Let’s go! The fair! Mokona wants fairy floss!”_

* * *

Sakura is laughing like a child again — a younger child, to be specific, as young as Syaoran can remember her, the way she was before the ruins and the scattered pieces of her so vibrant soul — as they mingle through the chattering crowd, leading their small group with the exuberance Syaoran has always loved as she darts from stall to cart to side alley, gasping and cheering and clapping her hands at, variously:

a display of hand-knitted toys, fantastical creatures one and all, whose insides are lit with blue and pink and yellow lanterns that glow through plump and cuddly bellies;

a woman swallowing a sword inch by shining, deadly inch (“It’s blunt,” mutters Kurogane thoughtfully, crouching down so that the Princess might hear him better, “see, look there: the edge doesn’t shine like it should, and she’s clearly oiled the metal. Still impressive,” he adds, begrudging to the very last) in a spike of slick steel engraved with many-petaled flowers and glowing in the lights around her;

a tiny mechanical horse, no bigger than Mokona herself, whose metallic flanks gleam silver and gold as it prances upon its rotating stage, delicate music chiming from the clockwork bells that tinkle bright and brilliant in the fine-carved locks of its shimmering mane;

a wheel of tiny capsules with cloth awnings, rotating slowly through a series of intricate pulleys and cables, the joyfully screaming children riding upon it kicking chubby legs back and forth beneath their fastening belts and waving their hands (and Syaoran has to duck, laughing, as a single small sandal topples down from one excitedly kicking foot to land in the sawdust below);

a stall laden with fresh-fried dough, speckled with cinnamon and sugar and smelling heavenly sweet as steam rises from fat crispy spirals of golden-brown pastry and a smiling chef offers samples to passersby;

and it’s several less coins from Syaoran’s purse and several more snacks later that the five of them take a seat on a nearby empty bench to lick the sticky crumbs from their fingertips — yes, including Kurogane, whose own pastry had been salted instead of sweet and met with thoughtful approval and a fiercely scowled defence even as Fai had tried to steal a bite — that Sakura falls back against the wooden planking with a contented little sigh, her legs kicking idly from where they hang. Even Kurogane is smiling, insofar as Syaoran has ever seen him do so, and makes only the minimum of fuss when Mokona gobbles up the last few bites of his fried snack.

“This is amazing,” says Sakura, crossing her arms behind her head and gazing in cheerful awe at the light and the spectacle around them, flowing like a river of colour around this small and restful island they rest upon. “I’m so glad we could all be here together.”

“The night is still young, Princess,” says Fai warmly. “And there are many more things to see — I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a festival as this in all my life before.” It’s not like anything Syaoran has seen, either, in all the places he has travelled before, or even in the kingdom of Clow; there’s a joyfulness here that rings sweet and clean beneath every voice he catches on the breeze, in every patron he watches play the complicated festival games, and there are so many children laughing in delight that he cannot feel anything but happy to be here in this place, in this moment. It’s… _good_ , to feel like this, and it’s something he will remember for a long time.

On the edge of the bench, and currently teasing Mokona by tugging playfully at one long ear, Kurogane pauses; lifts his head and turns ever so slightly east and towards the soft night breeze, drawing in a deep breath as though tasting the wind. “Black powder,” he says quietly, and Syaoran startles—

—and then startles again at the first crackling bloom that bursts upon the dark sky above them in a smashing riot of purple and gold.

“ _Fireworks_!” squeals Sakura, losing all composure altogether as she leaps to her feet, and she’s right: blue and red and green and silver, pink and orange and yellow and white, great crashing ripples of colourful sparks tearing across the sky in whistling booms that shake the ribs and make the heart flutter. “Oh, oh! We have to go, we have to go see them!”

Fai laughs, bright and wondering, and scoops Mokona up from Kurogane’s lap even as Kurogane huffs a soft chuckle, and Syaoran finds himself grinning back at Fai as he pats Sakura gently on her head. “Alright, _alright_ \- we’re going, Princess, don’t worry.”

“Oh, we have to hurry!” she cries, and this with a joyful hold on Syaoran’s hand that tugs him up and into the crowd.

* * *

The only dampener on the whole bright and wonderful evening is that when they finally get to the edge of the gathering crowd, the masses stand at least a dozen deep and their vision is somewhat obscured — at least, for the smaller members of the party it is; Sakura struggling up on her tip-toes to catch more than just a glimpse of the soaring rockets that streak upwards to explode in showers of sparks, and Syaoran feels a momentary twinge of sorrow that she cannot see as clearly as she wants to over the heads of the people before them.

Still, there is no sadness on her face even so, a childlike and glowing wonder lighting up her eyes like dawn’s first blush, and the happy flush to her cheeks just as pink as any sunrise; but Syaoran wishes, just _wishes_ , that she could have an even better view.

Which is why when Kurogane huffs softly and goes down on one knee beside her, jerking his head in clear invitation as he holds out a hand, Syaoran bites his lip happily and turns away, just a little, to hide how he has to close his eyes for just a moment.

“You don’t mind?” Sakura asks softly, and Kurogane simply rolls his eyes.

“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” he mutters, not unkindly, and crooks a half-smile when she takes the hand he holds out for her, her small fingers curling around his dark palm. Sakura steps up and onto the sturdy platform of his thigh, and Fai makes that soft whistley _hyuu_ sound he always does when he’s impressed as Kurogane clasps Sakura gently by the hips and lifts her easily upwards, his broad shoulder a seat for her to perch upon and her coltish legs dangling down and over his chest. Kurogane stands when she is seated, with exaggerated care, and Sakura claps her hands in excitement as she gains several more feet in height, rising clear above the crowd, almost high enough for the stars to crown her hair.

“I can see everything from here!” she whisper-shouts, and turns her head immediately upwards with the next _shriek-pop- bang!_ of rockets fired, brilliant crackling stars raining sparks across the sky and dancing specks of pink and gold and blue light across her wide and delighted face. “This is amazing! Kurogane-san, _thank you!_ ”

Kurogane makes a _hmph_ noise, but he’s smiling a little, and the nudge Fai gives him with a skinny elbow isn’t swatted away, his big hands curled instead about Sakura’s knees to keep her steady as she rocks and sways atop his shoulder. She claps her hands in time with the crowd, sighs and gasps and cheers at the right moments — waves cheerfully at a little girl some small distance over, also riding atop her parent’s shoulders — and when Mokona, bursting with excitement like the cork from a champagne bottle, ricochets up and across Syaoran’s head to Fai’s chest to Kurogane’s other shoulder, Sakura catches her happily and hugs her to her chest so that they might watch together.

The fireworks display doesn’t last much longer, and really it could have only been a few minutes all up, but Syaoran finds himself watching instead Sakura’s face even as the rockets whine upwards and sparks shatter across the dark sky like exploding stars and popcorn bursts of colour and crackling light; watches the light that stays with her, watches the way she glows like a beacon in the crowd, a brightness that warms his chest and makes his fingertips tingle as happiness bubbles up in him from the butterflies that flit through his ribs.

“Do you want a boost upwards too?” chuckles Fai quietly, dipping down a little to murmur the words in the lull that comes before the final few crackers are set alight. “I’m not as tall as Kuro-tower, but I can hold you up a bit more for a better view if you like.” His eyes are warm and gentle and his face is soft, watching Kurogane and Sakura and Mokona instead of the display blazing across the night, and something about his smile says he understands as Syaoran shakes his head.

“I’m good,” says Syaoran, and his face hurts from how wide he can’t help but grin. “My view’s just fine from here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, the title is from "firework" by Katy Perry, why do you ask?
> 
> This was written for an anon who needed something cheerful and sweet after a stressful and worrying day.
> 
> I've always loved shoulder-rides; I ended up on the front page of a local small-town newspaper as a very small child riding on the shoulders of a family friend, and my mother still has the article clipping. You can see the joy in my eyes and my smile, and it has always been one of my fondest memories.


End file.
